Chapter Text
Most people dream of being seen, but Mina has built a career out of not being recognised.
Not entirely, of course. Netizens know about Krauz Studio and its dancers, and they know about the mask; they just don’t know who is behind it.
SharonChoreo.
From reaction videos to idol forums, the captivating masked dancer is a mystery that every practice room and studio floor is dying to know. How does she move like that? Over a million subscribers, contracts declined, and collab offers turned down, Mina is known for her silence as much as her craft.
It’s just how Mina likes it.
She didn’t start out for attention; it’s just one of the perks that came with it. Mina signed up for rhythms that made her feel alive. Fluid like water, pulling back, sweeping in, always in motion. One does not need a face to mean something. To Mina, wading through the currents of movements and routines, mastering them, carving them deep into her muscle memory, is what matters.
Until recently.
Mina sets her mask down after Momo has turned off the music. The routine was wrong. Too off-beat, too controlled. Mina couldn’t feel the breath in it. She sprawls across the floor, sweat clinging to her hairline as she stares at the ceiling. It’s been happening too often lately than Mina’d like to admit. How would one call it? Creative block? In her case, the appropriate word would be dancer block.
“You should go home,” says Momo as she sits beside Mina and passes her a water bottle. “Get some rest. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
Mina sits up and opens the bottle, taking a small sip. “Just give me a few minutes, and I can try it again.”
Momo shakes her head and nudges Mina’s knees with her own. “You’ve tried it twelve times already. It’s not gonna come back just because you glare through the floor.”
“I’m not glaring.”
“You’re definitely glaring.”
Mina exhales and lies down again. The air tastes stale. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. She’s been at this for the past six hours. But perhaps Momo has a point. The Krauz crew has always been that way. They’re built on mutual rhythm, not pressure. And if anything, Momo knows Mina better than most people, all the way back to high school, since their first cramped studio with broken speakers and mats that slid under their feet.
“Go on, I'll clean up here,” says Momo again. “Take the long way home, clear your head, watch some penguin documentaries. You’ll come back tomorrow and figure it out. I know you always do.”
Mina heeds Momo’s advice and takes the longer path home. Not the one that passes the train station and the always-too-bright chicken shop, but via the side street that cuts through the older neighbourhoods. The quiet is nice. Refreshing. It gives her room to think without distraction.
The last light in the sky sinks behind apartment towers, bruising purple. Mina walks with her hoodie up, hands in pockets, her mind replaying the counts.
A short, sharp bark stops her.
Mina pauses. It has come from the alley ahead. Narrow and poorly lit. A terrible idea.
Another bark, more urgent this time.
Mina hesitates, then decides against her best judgment and makes her way toward the sound. If she gets mugged, Mina might as well chalk it up to her bad day.
Nestled between two large cardboard boxes and a stack of discarded takeout trays is a small Pomeranian. Fluffy and underweight. Big eyes and white fur. A grey T-shirt bunched up underneath him like a blanket.
Mina crouches down, and he eagerly trots toward her, tail wagging like he’s been waiting for her all day. Neither collar, nor leash. His owner nowhere in sight.
“Hey, little guy,” Mina coos. “Where did you come from?”
He barks again, tilting his head.
“You’re not a stray,” says Mina.
Pomeranians are the indoor types. They are born to be pampered and spoiled, not left in some dodgy alleyway like this. Mina holds out her hand, palm open. The little dog sniffs it, then presses his head into her fingers.
“Wow, okay,” Mina smiles.
Maybe today isn’t as bad as she’d thought. She glances down both ends of the alleyways. Still no one. Just her and this lost fella.
She scoops him up without any protest. In fact, he even buries his face in the crook of her arm and sighs in content.
“You’re seriously not going to make this hard, huh?”
The dog licks her jaw.
Mina laughs. “Alright, alright. Message received. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling quite hungry.”
The convenience store is half empty, save for the half-asleep clerk behind the counter and a college student staring into the ramen aisle like it’s a life-or-death decision. Still holding the dog in her arms, Mina grabs a triangle kimbap, some milk, and a chocolate cookie sandwich she doesn’t really need but craves anyway.
Mina balances the dog on her lap as she sits on the bench and peels open the wrapper.
He perks up, his nose twitching.
“This is chocolate, little guy. You can’t have it,” Mina says around a mouthful. “It’s literally poison for you.”
The dog whines, ears tilted forward in betrayal.
Mina sighs, breaking off a bit of the rice from her kimbap and offering it instead. He takes it politely, then immediately looks back at the cookie in her hand.
“You’re relentless, aren’t you?” Mina shakes her head.
She looks at the treat, then back at him. With a hum, Mina says. “Well… You do kinda look like a cookie-and-cream bar.”
The dog blinks.
“Kookeu,” Mina decides. “That’s what I’m calling you.”
He lets out a small bark in approval.
Mina smiles, feeding him another scrap of rice. “Kookeu it is, then.”
Kookeu lets Mina wipe his paws with a tissue before stepping into her apartment. He immediately hops on the pile of hoodies in the corner of the room and claims it as his own the second Mina puts him down.
“Already making yourself at home as if you pay rent, huh?” Mina mutters, toeing off her sneakers.
Kookeu lifts his head to blink at her, then sighs dramatically and flops over.
Mina gets a bowl of water, then googles “ Can dogs eat carrot sticks ” before putting a few frozen ones into a small bowl and places it in front of Kookeu. He eyes them sceptically, then starts gnawing. Acceptable. Mina makes a mental note to purchase some pet bowls and food for Kookeu. He cannot survive on rice and carrots alone.
After a quick shower, Mina settles on the floor beside Kookeu, towel still around her neck, her thumb hovering over the phone screen. She’s got Danggeun Market open, scrolling through the neighbourhood posts about noise complaints, second-hand trades, and some warnings about local bully gangs.
Lost Pet: Small white Pomeranian found. No collar. Found near the alley behind Dream Mart. Currently safe. Please message if he’s yours.
Mina stares at the draft for a second before hitting Post .
Kookeu’s snoring.
Sure, it would be great if the owner replied, but even better if Kookeu could stay with Mina. Perhaps she’s being selfish. Between working and practising, Mina rarely sees anyone other than Momo. And as close as they are, Momo cannot curl up beside Mina when it gets too quiet at home, or look at Mina like she hung the moon. Mina would like Kookeu to stay, just a little bit longer.
Over a week went by without anyone claiming Kookeu.
The post gets a handful of views, one comment turned out to be a scam, and a DM from someone looking for a Maltese in another district. Mina checks the app less and less. Eventually, she stops checking altogether. A boulder was lifted off her chest.
Kookeu adapts to his life quickly, learning the sound of Mina’s alarm, nosing at her ankles when she forgets to eat, even waiting patiently outside the bathroom for her. Even better, he falls into routine with Mina seamlessly. He accompanies Mina to rehearsals in the morning and goes on walks with her in the afternoon - a true gentleman at heart, though not much of a dancer, as much as he tries. Still, he spins in circles every time the music starts.
The dancer block doesn’t disappear overnight, but it quiets down. Mina lets Kookeu nap inside the hood of her hoodie while she sketches half-routines in her notebook. Bit of a slow trudge, but Mina has found herself counting beats under her breath again. SharonChoreo is returning with a new video soon enough.
Another daily walk, another peaceful afternoon with Kookeu. Until he decided to tug hard on the leash and bolt forward.
“Hey!” Mina stumbles, tightening her grip just in time to not trip and fall.
Kookeu doesn’t stop.
He darts past the Dream Mart and turns into the alley - That alley - and disappears. Only his barking reaches Mina. One sharp, high-pitched yelp after another.
“Kookeu,” Mina calls. “Come back!”
Mina rounds the corner, catching up to Kookeu, and stops at the sight.
Slumped against the brick wall is a girl who is half-curled on her side. Bruised cheek. Split lip. Her brown hair tangled and matted with sweat. Blood at her temple. One sneaker is half off. Her breathing is shallow. Mina hesitates. Nothing good ever comes out of a dark, damp alleyway.
Kookeu stands beside the girl, licking her face, then looks at Mina expectantly. What was Mina thinking? She found Kookeu here, a shining example of never judging the situation by its cover.
Mina rushes forward and kneels beside the brunette, checking for signs of more injuries with unsteady hands.
“Hey, hey,” Mina says under her breath, fingers brushing the girl’s wrist. Pulse. Warm skin. Relief washes over her, but not by much. “Can you hear me?”
Mina doesn't know what to do. She’s not a doctor. Just someone who was out walking her dog.
Kookeu presses his head into the girl’s side and stays there.
Right. Get help. Mina pulls out her phone and taps 119 - the emergency service, her fingers shaking.
This is 119. How can we help you?
“There’s an unconscious woman. We’re near-”
A hand shoots up, grabbing her wrist.
“Don’t,” the girl rasps.
Mina freezes.
Hello? Can you please tell us where you are?
The girl cracks her eyes open, enough for fear and desperation to flash through them.
“Please,” she whispers. “No hospital. No cops.”
Ma’am, can you hear me?
Mina swallows. She should tell them, right? The girl before her needs medical help. Mina knows that. But the grip on her wrist tightens. And Mina ends the call.
“Alright,” says Mina. “Okay.”
She tucks the phone away and shifts closer. The girl’s hand slips from her wrist, but doesn’t fall far.
“Can you sit up?” asks Mina.
After a long moment, the girl nods and makes the effort. Clumsy and painful. Mina reaches out instinctively, one hand under her arm, gently steadying the girl. Once upright, the girl presses a sleeve to her nose, wincing. Her lip’s still bleeding. She doesn’t look at Mina.
“My place isn’t far,” says Mina, the words out before she can stop them.
She hears herself and immediately wonders why . She doesn’t know this girl. Doesn’t owe her anything. Mina doesn’t bring strangers into her space.
The girl turns her head towards her. Still doesn’t say anything. Just stares at Mina.
And yeah. Fair.
Mina’s about to backtrack when Kookeu barks, weighing in on the decision. The girl’s gaze drops to the pup, and recognition blooms through the pain.
“He was mine,” says the girl. “From before.”
She kneels, and Kookeu presses into her side like they’ve done this a hundred times. She pets him with shaking fingers.
“I found him near my building. Then I lost him. Didn’t even get to name him.”
“I found him here in this alley a few weeks ago. I call him Kookeu.”
The girl blinks, then lets out the smallest breath of a laugh. “Kookeu,” she repeats. “That suits him.”
She scratches gently behind his ear, and Kookeu leans in, tail wagging. The girl turns her head back toward Mina, steadier now.
“I can walk,” she says quietly.
The girl curls her fingers around Kookeu’s tiny frame, not letting go even as she rises to her feet. She holds him close, cradling him against her chest like something fragile.
Mina offers her arm again. “It’s not far.”
Mina doesn’t usually have guests. She enjoys her solitude, with Momo visiting occasionally after practice, or after a successful video upload. It feels strange, letting someone break her constant rhythm. But there the girl stands, in the middle of Mina’s apartment, like she doesn’t quite know how to belong in it, with Kookeu in her arms.
Mina gestures toward the futon. “You can sit, it’s okay. I’m just gonna grab some stuff for your bleeding.”
The girl hesitates, then slowly lowers herself.
Mina disappears into the bathroom. She returns a few minutes later with a small towel, antiseptic, and a well-worn first aid kit. She can manage twisted ankles and scrapes from work, not patching people up with bruised lips and blood on their sleeves. But Mina kneels before the girl anyway and places the supplies on the low table, then uncaps the bottle.
“This might sting.”
Mina dabs at the wound above her brow first. The girl doesn’t flinch.
"You’re good at this,” the girl murmurs.
“Practice,” says Mina. “Dancers get hurt all the time. Can’t wait around for someone to fix it.”
A faint smile tugs at the girl’s mouth. They don’t speak for a while.
As Mina begins cleaning the cut on her lip, the girl speaks again. “You didn’t have to help me.”
Mina doesn’t look up. “I know.”
It would be too much to explain that it feels like the right thing to do, more so with Kookeu’s insistence. And maybe it isn’t just about the dog. Maybe it’s the look in the girl’s eyes. Fierce and afraid. The eyes of someone who has spent a long time learning how to protect herself, because there’s no one left to do it for her.
Mina finishes with the towel and sets it aside. The girl strokes Kookeu’s fur absently, the other hand still tucked in her sleeve.
“I should go,” she says after a while.
“You sure?” asks Mina.
The girl is still pale, bruised, and all too quiet. A tide, as sudden as she came, and the girl is pulling away.
She nods. “I’ve taken enough.”
Mina doesn’t stop her, just stands and walks to the door as the girl follows. Kookeu trots alongside her, whining. The girl picks him up.
Mina’s heart drops. Kookeu belonged to the girl first.
“You should keep him,” says the girl. “He likes you. I can tell.”
“He’s yours.”
The girl shakes her head. “He’s safe with you.”
She lowers him gently to the floor. Kookeu lingers by her feet, uncertain, tail wagging once before settling.
“Just… take care of him.”
“I have been,” says Mina. “I will.”
The girl’s hand rests on the doorknob. Then, without looking up: “I’m Nayeon.”
The name sits softly between them.
“Mina.”
Nayeon nods, then slips through the door. Kookeu presses his nose to the edge where she stood and stays there long after the hallway goes still.
Mina doesn’t see Nayeon again after that.
Doesn’t mean she can stop thinking about the girl. About the blood on her lips, the tremble in her hand, the way she held Kookeu like something soft that could still be hers. And her eyes, lingering in Mina’s peripheral vision long after she’s looked away.
Mina keeps replaying it. Her voice, her hesitation. The way Nayeon said I’ve taken enough like she meant it.
Mina tries to get back into her routine. Rehearse, sketch new choreography, and focus. Her head is always half a second behind the beat. Her attention drifts. Her rhythm is missing. Momo asks if Mina’s sick.
She isn’t. Just distracted.
Mina finds herself walking past the alley with Kookeu every day after rehearsal, pretending it’s sheer coincidence. But her pace slows at the corner. Her eyes linger longer than they should.
There’s no one.
Not until the fifth day.
Mina can’t sleep. The girl with those warm, brown eyes refuses to leave her mind. She looks at the clock. 10 PM. Maybe a light stroll will help her sleep better.
Mina tiptoes through the apartment, careful not to disturb Kookeu. She slips on her sneakers and opens the door. Kookeu lets out a small bark from inside her bedroom.
How dare you go on a walk without me?
”Alright, alright,” Mina coos. “Let me get your leash.”
The air is getting colder as autumn approaches. Mina’s glad she’s bundled up in her hoodie. Her legs lead her toward the familiar alleyway again. Just habits. A twenty-minute walk and she’ll get back to sleep again.
A choked yelp, followed by the crack of something hitting the pavement. Kookeu barks, bolting forward.
A deja vu.
Mina rushes around the corner and sees her. Nayeon.
Backed against the wall. A different jacket, but the same guarded eyes. Three girls surround her with sharp laughter and even sharper elbows. They’re only warming up.
“Leave her alone.”
They notice Mina and frown, as if she has disturbed their meal.
“Cops are on their way.”
Mina steps forward. No yelling. No panic. Kookeu stays by her side, growling.
The tallest one, bleach-blonde with a too-sweet smile, cocks her head. “The fuck did you say to me?”
“I said,” Mina repeats, tone flat, “police are coming.”
The girl with the bomber jacket snorts. “You’re bluffing.”
Mina tilts her head. “Wanna test your luck and find out?”
They hesitate.
The younger one shifts her weight, nudging the bomber jacket one. “Let’s just go.”
The blonde eyes Mina, chewing her gum like she wants to spit it in her face, but doesn’t. She turns without a word. The others follow.
It isn’t until they’re out of sight that Mina kneels beside Nayeon. “You okay?”
Nayeon’s breathing hard. Her eyes flick up to meet Mina’s. She nods.
They don’t go far.
The Dream Mart is closed today, so they walk a few blocks down, toward the 24-hour convenience store tucked between a laundromat and a pharmacy. Nayeon doesn’t ask where they’re going, just follows Mina, with Kookeu held tight in her arms.
Mina grabs two bottles of water, a sports drink, and a small ice pack from the cooler. She hesitates in front of the ramen shelf before adding a packet of triangular kimbap to the basket.
They sit outside on moulded red plastic stools that creak a bit too loudly. Nayeon sets Kookeu in her lap, where he wiggles for a second, then curls up.
Mina presses the ice pack to Nayeon’s cheek. No complaints.
“So, are you in a fight club or something?”
Nayeon snorts, then winces; the movement pulls at her split lip. She holds the icepack herself. Their hands brush. Mina ignores whatever is tingling inside her stomach.
“Not really, not anymore,” Nayeon mutters. She keeps her gaze fixated on Kookeu. “I left. Didn’t go down well.”
Her voice thins out at the end.
Mina’s seen the posts on Danggeun. Mentions of a group hanging around the old school yard, girls in bomber jackets starting fights near the stations. It clicks. Nayeon was a part of that group; the only difference is that she left. A costly mistake.
Mina chews her kimbap in silence.
“We were, well, I was angry, loud, and bored. We’d hang out behind the gym, skip class, and mouth off to teachers. Beat up some kids and took their pocket money just because we can,” says Nayeon as she absentmindedly strokes Kookeu’s fur. “It got worse after graduation. No school, no curfews. Just more time and fewer consequences.”
Nayeon pauses, then continues. “Jennie took it further. She liked the power. Lisa backed her up in everything. She came up with the idea to film things and post them to scare people. And Julie…” Nayeon stops again and sighs. “Julie likes chaos. She never cares who it was that we hurt.”
Mina listens, not saying anything. The puzzle that she didn’t ask to solve is coming together.
“I-I never have anyone. Not at home, not at school. They were all that I had. I thought it was some harmless fun. Stupid kids doing stupid things, you know?”
“Until it didn’t,” Mina answers for the brunette.
She had her fair share of dealing with bullies back in her school days. But it’s not the time to tell Nayeon how often she ate lunch in stairwells, or what it felt like to be invisible and still somehow be a target. That’s not what this is about. Mina is not one to judge people, not when they’re trying to atone, and especially not when they’re taking the brunt of the consequences of their actions.
“Yeah… I tried to leave many times before. But they somehow always convinced me that I needed them,” Nayeon nods, unable to look into Mina’s eyes. “Then, there was this little girl, just ten, twelve years old. She got separated from her mum and was asking us for directions. She was so polite.”
The words choke in Nayeon’s throat. A quiet tear escapes her.
Mina hesitates, then reaches up and wipes it off her cheek. Nayeon lets her.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it.”
Nayeon shakes her head. “No, what I did was horrible. I am a horrible person, you see. That poor kid. I knew something was wrong when Jennie said, ‘Didn’t your mum teach you not to talk to strangers? ’ I tried to pull them away, but then Julie pushed that kid to the ground. And then Lisa started filming. I stood by and watched a child begging us to stop. I did nothing, Mina. Nothing!”
Her voice cracks on the last word. Mina keeps her hand near Nayeon’s cheek. A quiet kind of comfort.
Nayeon presses her lips together. “When her mum came running up, screaming… I couldn’t even look her in the eye. That night, I told Jennie I was done. She called me dramatic.” Nayeon huffs out a bitter breath. “Said we were just playing.”
“I didn’t go back after that. Didn’t answer their messages. Blocked their numbers. I thought that would be it.” Her hand on Kookeu stills. “I was stupid.”
“They tracked you down, didn’t they?” asks Mina.
Her hand finds Nayeon’s without thinking, curling around it. Nayeon doesn’t pull away. It feels almost like the most natural thing in the world, like something they’ve done before. Her thumb brushes against the back of Nayeon’s hand, soothing and grounding.
“First, it was texts from unknown numbers. Then someone spray-painted traitor on the door to my building. Jennie took it personally that I dared to leave her. It’s a game to them now. I had to move, got a new number, didn’t go anywhere twice in the same week.”
“I take it they don’t let it go that easily,” says Mina.
Bullies are like a relentless parasite, feeding on fear and your hope that ignoring them will be enough. They thrive off the doubt and shame of their victims. An unending nightmare. And the worst part is, they convince you this is your fault. For letting them in.
“No, they didn’t,” says Nayeon, turning her hand around and playing with Mina’s fingers. “They showed up wherever I was. Not even to threaten. Just to let me know they could. Jennie once waited outside my work shift and smiled at me like we were old friends. Lisa followed me from a distance and pretended it was a coincidence. And Julie shows up just to make a scene. Once she shoved me into a rack of umbrellas in a shop and smiled like the psycho that she was.”
“I don’t sleep much anymore,” a tired laugh escapes Nayeon. “Shame there is no block button in real life.”
“That’s called murder in most countries, I think,” Mina points out.
Nayeon lets out an amused laugh. A fact true in a twisted way that only survivors recognise. She intertwines their hands together, a quiet thank you. Mina brushes the butterflies in her stomach away.
They sit like that for a while, enjoying the cool autumn air. Kookeu snores away, blissfully unaware of their conversation.
“Are you always like this?” Nayeon asks eventually. “Like nothing gets to you?”
Mina’s mouth twitches. “You make it sound like a flaw.”
“No, I mean,” Nayeon quickly corrects herself. “Just, how do I say this? Hard to read?”
“Good,” replies Mina.
That earns her a sidelong glance. A lopsided smile lingers on Naeyon’s lips. Mina has decided she likes that.
“You caught me on a generous day. I’m usually worse.”
Nayeon laughs again, softer this time. “Right, must have been the kimbap.”
“Or the near-death rescue. Hard to say.”
Nayeon hums, then tilts her face toward Mina with a grin that is built to undo people. Charming and irresistible.
“You ever done something really stupid for no reason?”
Mina coughs; her pulse is half a second too fast.
“Define stupid .”
Nayeon doesn’t miss a beat. “Not illegal.”
Mina raises her eyebrow. “Not reassuring.”
Nayeon nudges her shoulder. “Well, there is a 24/7 arcade two blocks from here. It’s rigged as fuck, but the stuffed animals there will stare straight into your souls. I go there whenever I want to feel both joy and disappointment simultaneously.”
“You want me to go play rigged arcade games with you. At one in the morning,” repeats Mina. “I don’t know whether I should be intrigued or terrified.”
They’ve known each other for less than six hours in total, if one counts both of their encounters.
Would it be weird that Mina wants to spend way, way more time with this strange girl? Yes.
But does she also want to keep hearing that laugh? To catch another glimpse of how Nayeon looks at her with those warm, brown eyes that sparkle with glee when talking about possibly possessed stuffed animals? Absolutely.
“Both?” Nayeon shrugs, as if the answer is so evident. “Come on, they light up! Some even sing. And I’ve been craving that heartbreak only a rigged claw machine can give.”
Mina hums, pretending she’s weighing up the options, while in truth, she has already been won over. Now that is terrifying.
“I suppose you do make a compelling case.”
“Is that a yes I’m hearing?”
Mina sighs, long and theatrical. “One game.”
Nayeon’s face breaks into something radiant. “One game per machine. Got it.”
Against her better judgment. Against the cold that is biting her face. Against all of her instincts to go home, stretch, and get a good night's sleep, Mina is standing in the middle of a mess of neon and cheap pop music, with flamboyant claw machines that can only be described as an eyesore blinking in erratic rhythms. This is going to be worse than any hangover when Mina wakes up in the morning.
“There, my nemesis,” Nayeon narrows her eyes and points at a game at the centre of the arcade.
Sweet Fruit Claw Deluxe 2.0
Inside, a pile of yellow plushies with beady eyes and banana peels for hats stare at Mina.
“I take it you’ve burned more than an appropriate amount of money for this.”
“Guilty, your Honour.”
Mina leans back against the machine beside her. “And you’ve never won?”
“Winning ruins the narrative,” says Nayeon, already feeding a coin to the machine.
The claw dangles and swings. Misses by a mile.
“I see,” says Mina. “Very poetic.”
Nayeon gives her a glare. “You try.”
Mina takes the coin, more intrigued than anything. Her shoulder brushes Nayeon’s as she steps up. She doesn’t move away. Neither does Nayeon.
The machine rumbles as the claw shifts, squeaking behind the glass panel. It catches. The banana plush drops two inches from the prize chute.
Nayeon whistles. “Well, well, well, we have a secret competitive destroyer here, everyone.”
Mina doesn’t say anything, only pulls out another coin and slides it into Nayeon’s hand. Maybe she just wants an excuse to be close to the brunette beside her. Maybe not. All she knows is this girl spells trouble, and Mina just doesn’t know if it's the good kind or not, yet.
They burn through three more machines. Nayeon plays like it’s an Olympic sport, setting out to win and prove herself. They could have bought ten of those plushies with the money they have spent on the coins for the past hour.
But that’s not the point.
Mina stands by, enjoys watching more than playing, pretending she’s unimpressed.
She isn’t.
While Nayeon takes a two-minute break to curse at the rigged system, Mina’s eyes drift toward a machine tucked in the back corner. Unlike the other flashy games, this one has no neon lights, nor theme music, only a slow-turning carousel of plush sea creatures.
What catches Mina’s attention, sitting among the heap of octopuses and dolphins, is a penguin - all grey fluff and a tiny yellow beak.
Nayeon is already by the machine, dropping a coin in the slot.
Mina raises her eyebrows. Nayeon has made it abundantly clear of her fondness for bunnies, not sea creatures. They have three coins left, and Nayeon has yet to win her desired prize.
The claw groans and descends.
It hooks the penguin on the second try, but the claw releases right before getting to the prize chute.
Third time’s the charm. The claw, somehow miraculously, holds and drops the penguin down the chute with a soft thud.
“Wow, you actually won something.”
“I did,” says Nayeon with proud smugness, and bows dramatically. She pulls the plushie free and smooths its tiny flippers before holding it out to Mina.
“It’s for you.”
Mina stares.
“Look, it’s a thank-you. For earlier. For not walking away,” says Nayeon sheepishly.
She looks away, the penguin still hanging between them. Mina takes the penguin but doesn’t know where to put it, so she awkwardly holds it by the flippers. The little bird dangles like a child, too short, being lifted by the parent, hovering half a foot up in the air.
“Don’t lose it,” says Nayeon as she walks up to the next machine. “That one’s good luck.”
Mina watches the way Nayeon’s hair moves with her steps and the way she tosses her head when she laughs, as if the world owes her joy and she’s here to collect.
It’s magnetic.
It’s irresistible.
Above all, it’s dangerous.
How Mina cannot seem to keep her eyes off Nayeon, how she’s only met the brunette for too brief a time, and all Mina wants is more, how Mina doesn’t seem to mind the chaos and loudness that she usually despises when it comes to Nayeon.
Mina is really, really in trouble, but she doesn’t mind it one bit.
Mina hits snooze for the third time.
Kookeu doesn’t even stir in his bed.
10:00 AM. Way later than her usual wake-up time. Not that Mina minds it.
They’d gotten back at three in the morning. Nayeon had insisted on walking Mina home, stubbornly waving off the offer to crash for the night.
“Nah, nah, I’ve taken up enough of your time,” said Nayeon, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Thanks for hanging out with me.”
There it was again. The fear of taking up space. Of being too much . Mina didn’t press. They barely knew each other. Yet in one evening, they knew more about each other than most friends dared to say out loud.
“Okay, take care. See you around?”
“I’ll think about it,” Nayeon jested.
Mina laughed, shaking her head. “Good night. Stay out of trouble, yeah?”
“Not my fault troubles find me irresistible,” Nayeon called back, waving over her shoulders.
Mina unlocks her phone and stares at the newest Kakao contact, Nayeonie .
Of course, Nayeon had taken her phone and named herself, right before they bid goodbye. She even put the dolphin emoji next to her name.
Mina’s fingers hover over the chat.
Good morning :)
Delete.
Hi, I had a great time last night. Would you like to do it again sometime soon?
Delete.
Mina groans into her pillow.
Why is she struggling to text a girl?
The budding flutter in her heart at the thought of Nayeon aside, this is… what? Just a friend? At least to Nayeon , right?
Mina looks at the penguin plushie that came to bed with her last night. Beady eyes stare back, quietly judging her.
She’s overthinking this.
Something soft lands on her stomach. Kookeu has awakened and is ready for breakfast.
Bingo.
An up-close, impossibly adorable photo of Kookeu was sent to Nayeon. No text needed.
Her phone buzzes right away.
A series of heart reactions rain down on the picture, followed by a typing bubble.
is this bribery? because it’s working >:)
Mina grins into her blanket.
The typing bubble appears again.
wanna grab coffee later? No trauma bonding this time. just… normal stuff?
Another text.
unless ur too busy being mysterious and cool and silent and beautiful and etc etc.
It’s ridiculous how Mina is giggling like a teenage girl at her phone like this. It’s warm and stupid and embarrassing. And Mina likes it.
She takes her breath, then composes herself before typing:
i can do normal. 2 PM? I know a place.
Nayeon replies immediately.
perfect. I’ll bring my least tragic outfit.
A followed-up text.
jk they’re all tragic. See u then :’)
Mina drops the phone onto the sheets beside her and covers her face with one hand.
She is so doomed.